Moments of the Heroes
by child of Hermes-god of stealth
Summary: All heroes have their moments. Any place, any time period. The demigods of Rome and Greece, defined as heroes, also have their moments. But each hero is different, different thoughts and different instincts. Each hero is unique, with moments no one else will never, ever have. Ever.
1. Hazel's Past

**To all of you guys reading my Reading the Mark of Athena story: I didn't stop. I just don't have much time in the summer. In the school seasons I have more time, which is kinda backwards. O.o**

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**I purposely had this story be a little vague, just so you know. So, read and tell me what you think! :D**

**Disclaimer: Hazel Levesque belongs to Rick Riordan. Not me. NOT me. Got it?**

Hazel Levesque slid back and forth on the layer of slick earth, fighting against the pouring rain.  
She fought to keep going, to keep up with the rapid beat of the pounding drops  
of rain hitting the dirt underneath her feet. She glanced up, and with another  
burst of speed, kept sprinting.

She had done her share today. She was beaten down, tired, and sore. She'd summoned  
all of her powers and strengths, to reach so many of those valuables deep in  
the earth. She'd done her share. But there'd be more. There's always more.

Her bare feet pounded onto the ground, firm, but at the same time, silent and  
petite. Her feet were covered in mud, and her legs scraped and bruised. She  
turned her head to look behind in the whirl of darkness. She yanked her head  
back, and stared straight ahead determined, confident.

Her cinnamon brown hair flew behind, a mass of knots, tangles and curls, twigs and leaves. She  
swatted a good deal of it away from her face, which was tinted pink from her  
efforts.

Darkness seemed to stumble around her, swiping at corners and seeping in  
backgrounds.

'This is my father's power. This can not harm me.' she repeated through her  
mind. The Voice couldn't reach her with darkness.

She ran more evenly, her feet landing in rhythm. She brushed her fingers  
against her forehead but carried on.

She stopped, so suddenly, she almost tripped over herself.

She pushed her hands against the sturdy wooden fence and sighed, in relief or  
worry, even she couldn't tell.

She put her back to the fence and leaned back, letting her arms fall down next  
to her. She slid down the fence and sat in the wet grass, looking at the inky  
sky in silence.

What if her horrors don't stop? What if they're never ending? What if The Voice  
isn't satisfied and doesn't leave? What if her mother is permantly stuck with  
The Voice?

She pulled her legs into her chest and wrapped her arms around them, staring at  
the sky in wonder.

Wondering what? Well, even the girl couldn't say exactly. She just stared at  
the endless sky and wondered...wondered, what if...?

**If you guys like this story, I'll update another one soon! Thanks guys! .-.**

**-Stealth**


	2. NIco's Darkness

**Thanks for the reviews guys! :D**

**Disclaimer: Well let's see... I'm pretty sure I'm not Rick, but... eh what the heck, I don't own Nico Di Angelo. Happy?**

SURROUNDED BY DARKNESS

NICO'S DARKNESS

Nico Di Angelo sat with his back facing the solid obsidian wall of his cabin. He stared gloomily at the torch hung at the doorway, burning with a flickering forming of Greek fire, the greens of the flames changing from shades of lime to bright, to dark greens. He glowered at it, like it was the cause of all his problems, which in his case, were a lot. His dark eyes flickered with anger, as if large dark clouds were forming in his irises. The skull above the doorway looked down at him, smirking, like the idea amused him.

He was an outcast. He didn't belong. He was different. Very different. Campers have said it themselves. He was different. He didn't belong.

He clenched his fists. They were, of course, right. He kept traveling, like a schedule. Camp Half Blood, Underworld, Camp Jupiter, Other. The Other being whatever he was sent off to do by his father, or a quest. He was mainly a servant, he guessed. Used to get stuff done. His jaw tightened. Like Bianca. A servant of Artemis. Which resulted in her death. A servant for a quest. Which resulted in her death.

He grimaced. Not exactly a friendly topic he liked to dwindle on.

He absent mindedly fingered the shadows oozing from all corners of the room. Wrapping them between his thumb and forefinger, he stretched his fingers apart, tenatively.

He had people he could rely on, of course. Percy and Annabeth, who were usually too busy being together, weren't exactly the most helpful, but they cared, which were beyond expections.

Thalia was usually with the Hunters, so he didn't see her much, and her Hunters didn't exactly like him in the first place.

He traveled too much to gain any support, which was what he guessed was the point. He didn't need pity. And that's all he would get.

He came to a conclusion. It wasn't a bad one, mind you. It was a confident one, sturdy and sure.

Being different... that was never classified as a 'bad' thing... was it?


	3. Piper's Dance

**Here's chapter 3... I own nothing whatsoever. I'll update again soon. Hopefully.**

Dancing in the Night

PIPER'S DANCE

Piper McLean stood outside of her dad's villa in Nevada at the dead of night. She stood facing the fields laid out in front of her, taking the appearance in. Her speakers stood on the porch by the front door, blasting smooth notes into the night air.

She placed her weight on her toes, and listened, listened for the notes she was hoping to hear.

Her speakers, bouncing from the volume, vibrated on smooth wood of the porch.

Piper grasped her hands together behind her back. She stared off into the distance, watching the horizon where the sun sank hours ago. She fingered a bracelet her dad had given her for her birthday not long ago. A charm bracelet, slowly being filled with little charms.

A little ballet shoe was linked to a chain, handpainted a rosy shade of pink. She smiled a little, remembering her attempts at ballet.

A snorkling mask, painted a foggy blue, sat linked next to the shoe. Her dad had promised to take her snorkling a day when he wasn't working. So far, the charm was just a promise.

A little heart, sterling silver, shook back and forth as she turned her wrist. Her dad always said she was beautiful, and gave her the charm so she always knew.

And lastly, a small cellphone charm dangled next to the large empty space of the remaining bracelet. Call me, whenever you want to, her dad had said. Whenever you want to.

Her speaker sung, a song she had always loved, because she actually understood it. It meant something, it made sense. It fit into her life.

She balanced her weight back on her feet. She stood still for a moment, staring at the swaying fields. Then danced.

She danced like she never had. She spun, she twirled, she landed back on her toes. She jumped, she leaped, she landed with her fingers tracing the grass.

She smiled. She sat on her stomach, tracing her fingers in the patterns of the grass. She rolled, down towards the fields of waving yellow. She stopped, on her back on the ground, a smile making a way on her face.

She looked on at the inky sky in silence.

She closed her eyes and thought. All she knew, her charm bracelet wouldn't be empty for long. She knew she had moments and memories, experiences and adventures, a lot of them, ahead of her. They were coming.

She just knew it.


	4. Frank's Hollowness

**Hello, I'm sorry it took so long to update... I'm considering doing Thalia next. Any other suggestions? Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Was that surprising? I would hope not.**

Consumed with Despair

FRANK'S HOLLOWNESS

Frank Zhang sat on the couch in his family mansion in Vancouver, wishing he could go back in time. To see his mother again, and never lose her. To never let her leave for Afghanistan, to never let her die. For her to escape.

Escape Death.

Death shouldn't be avoided. He knew that. But he also knew, there was a difference between shouldn't and can't.

Death can be avoided. And that's all he cared about.

He deflated against the cushions. He was exaggerating again. He couldn't bring back his mother. She's dead. And there was no form of Death. Death was just... death, not a living being.

Tears threatened to fall, and he didn't try to hold them back. Why did his mother have to be so loyal to save her companions in Afghanistan? Why did it have to result in her death?

He stared at the ceiling blankly. He felt hollow and empty, and felt like the feeling would never leave. No matter how much things change.

How can you feel so hollow with such a stocky figure? He glanced at his large frame. Why couldn't he be something else? Anything else? Not him.

He sighed quietly. None of this could happen. Why wouldn't his mind let it drop?

Because your mind is set in the right place. The future is always a mystery. You never know.

He hesitated. He made a decision. A tiny piece of Hope he never noticed fluttered around inside him.

Maybe he couldn't get his mom. Maybe he couldn't be anything but himself.

But life is a mystery. And now was the time to explore it.

**I'd love suggestions. Thanks!**

**-Stealth**


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